


The Secrets of Sherlock Holmes

by FleetSparrow



Series: Story a Day in May 2020 [12]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Diary/Journal, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:27:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24351298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetSparrow/pseuds/FleetSparrow
Summary: A scattering of diary entries from Sherlock Holmes.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Story a Day in May 2020 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727173
Kudos: 18





	The Secrets of Sherlock Holmes

_From personal papers found after the death of Sherlock Holmes:_

188–  
I know in my heart I cannot love. This is not because of the times in which I live, nor of the lack of legality of my predilections, but in the deepest part of my soul. There is no one who I would willingly allow into my life to ruin my concentration, my work, the entire turn of my life. This realization has brought me pause. It should have been a simple matter to deal with, and yet—

No. I will not let it be a distraction. Love and other such emotions only cloud one’s reason. Therefore, I will devote no more time to it.

188–  
I have acquired new rooms and, with them, a roommate. I do not know what it is about him, but we have grown quite close in the past few weeks. He is companionable. He does not mind my occasional moods. He is

I don’t know how to finish that. He makes me feel things that I do not want to feel.

188–  
Watson has been wonderfully helpful during several cases. We have become fast friends. And yet—how loath I am to write this—he will soon be moving out. He has fallen in love. I cannot say that I am unhappy for him, but I am deeply unhappy for myself. I feared this would happen as soon as Watson met her.

I think I shall make myself scarce during their early romance. Perhaps France, or somewhere else on the Continent. I don’t think I could bear being at their wedding.

I am very cross with myself for this utterly disgraceful business, but, unfortunately, I cannot deny it anymore. I love Watson with every fibre of my being. I must take time away. I must recover myself.

189–  
I have left England for possibly the last time. I know now I must disappear for good. Perhaps one day, I will return, but things currently look bleak. My only regret is that I must leave Watson. He has been steadfastly by me for years, but I fear our friendship will only hurt him.

189–  
It is time for me to return home. I have had many strange adventures, but I fear now I have been gone away too long. I do not know if anyone will forgive me, but I know I only care for one pardon. Watson has, surely, been the most hurt through these years—I heard recently of the passing of his dear wife, and I was truly sorry to not be by his side.

Perhaps I am selfish. I will accept that. But heartless? No. Not when my heart aches for home, for him. It is time to go home. I can only pray that he will have me back.

189–  
If I feared my dear Watson would never forgive me, than I feared in vain. He may not trust me as much as he had before—and that may be my own imagining—but he has forgiven me.

189–  
I have confessed my feelings to him. I write this by the moonlight through my window, for I do not wish to wake him by moving too much. There is a contentment in my soul that I have never before felt. I keep pausing to watch him sleep and, each time, I am filled with affection. I wish to kiss him until he wakes, and then never stop.

I do not know what this means for my theories about love destroying reason. Perhaps it does and I have condemned my mind to less practical pursuits. I cannot be bothered by it now.

My dear Watson. One day, when we have grown old together, I shall let you read these jumbled thoughts of mine. You will finish, and will look at me with that bemused affection you have often showed me. And I will play you one of your favorite pieces, and kiss you, and quite possibly never stop.

But, sleep, now! You terrible insomniac. Sleep in his arms and dream of the life before you. I am happier than I deserve. I will do all in my power to keep him happy, too.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I've been writing all this month, and it's not all been tragic, I promise.


End file.
